


Strength

by BansheeLydia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canonical Character Death, Drabble, Friendship, Gen, set after 3b
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 08:04:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4427732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BansheeLydia/pseuds/BansheeLydia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>set after 3b and Allison's death.  Scott and Lydia friendship.  </p>
<p>'He hadn’t seen her cry.  </p>
<p>That was what worried Scott the most.  He hadn’t seen Lydia cry, not after that initial, gut wrenching scream.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strength

He hadn’t seen her cry. 

That was what worried Scott the most. He hadn’t seen Lydia cry, not after that initial, gut wrenching scream. He’d expected her to emerge from the building sobbing, but she’d walked out almost calmly; pale, expression haunted, but no tears. That almost ghostly blankness had stayed, through the questioning at the police station, through the days that followed, even through Allison’s funeral. If Lydia was going to break down at any point, Scott had expected it to be then, as the casket lowered into the ground, and he’d been watching Lydia carefully, ready to give her the support she needed, and yet...no tears. 

He’d cried. He’d cried so much it felt like there couldn’t be any pain or grief left, like it had been wrung out of him, yet it was always there, like a shadow, this constant pain. This constant guilt. He broke down. He pulled himself together. He watched the others because...because he needed to do _something_ , needed to offer support and strength. 

He saw the grief. He saw it in the tears in Stiles’ eyes when he thought no one was watching. He saw it in the bags under his eyes from lack of sleep. He saw it in the hardness to his jaw and the quiet, hoarse words he offered when Scott pulled him into a hug. 

He saw it in Derek, in the quiet consolation he offered to the others, in the resigned, tired look on his face; their lives were war and Derek was used to witnessing death, but Scott saw how the death of Allison bore down on the older werewolf. 

He saw it in Chris, in the broken, lost look in his eyes, in the hardness to his body, the way his hands trembled when he didn’t think anyone was looking; the posture of a man who’d had everything ripped away from him and yet, by some cruel twist, was left alive to bear the pain of it.

He saw it in himself, every time he looked in the mirror.

In Lydia, though, he didn’t see it at first. There was never usually any in between with Lydia; she either masked her emotions like she didn’t even have them, or she wore her heart on her sleeve. Either way, Scott had always been able to tell how she truly felt. But now...now he couldn’t see what was truly going on in her head or her heart. And that terrified him.

He did see it, eventually; he saw it in her hands. The way they moved fast, furiously, across her page as she wrote, the brutal slash of them as she highlighted, the tug to her hair to correct stray locks. They trembled when they weren’t active. 

She wasn’t sleeping. That was the second thing Scott noticed. She concealed the dark bags under her eyes with make up, but Scott still noticed. He noticed how pale she looked.

Something was wrong.

The thing was, she spoke to them, and yet she didn’t _speak_ to them. Scott thought maybe she needed time. That eventually, she would be ready, and the tears would come, but that was the first stage, right? Once she acknowledged the grief, the pain, they’d be able to help her.

But months dragged on and she didn’t shed a single tear. 

Yet, Scott noticed. He noticed how her grades were perfect. He noticed the colleges she was applying to. He noticed all the books she carried, noticed the hastily scribbled notes and whole paragraphs highlighted, and finally, he spoke.

“This isn’t healthy.”

Lydia flinched, just slightly, but slashed her highlighter over another line before she looked up. “Wanting to do well isn’t healthy?”

“Not like this.” 

Lydia brushed a hand through her hair. She looked tired. So tired. “You don’t understand, Scott.”

“You haven’t cried,” Scott replied softly. It wasn’t an accusation, yet she winced like it was, dropping her gaze to her hands. Even now, they fidgeted with the hem of her blouse.

“It’s my fault.”

The words were barely audible and Scott sat there for a moment, just stunned in silence. Then he reached out, taking her hands, stilling them. He just held them, trying to hold her steady. Tried to be strong so she didn’t have to be. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said.

Lydia didn’t pull away, but anger lit up her eyes. “She died for me, Scott.” The words weren’t shouted, but Scott felt like they may as well have been, the weight of them hitting him hard. “She died saving me. I need to be worthy of that. I need to – I need to live the life she should have. I need to be the person she thought I was because – because how do I deal with this? With being without her? Waking up every single morning to the knowledge that she’s dead. Allison’s dead...and it’s my fault.”

And then she broke. Her whole body fell forward as she sobbed, the tears finally falling, and Scott pushed his shock away, put his own grief aside, and held her close. Just held her, letting her cry. Letting her do what she needed to do. 

Later, he would tell her that it wasn’t her fault. He would help her. They would talk about this.

But right now, he just held her as she cried.

**Author's Note:**

> kirasmalydia.tumblr.com - come say hello? :)


End file.
